There was a man who watched me sleep. He had big eyes that seemed like it was protruding out of his eye sockets. He had rotting red skin like it was soaked in blood and then caramelized.
I first saw him when I was seven. I was having a hard time sleeping that night but I kept my eyes shut. The wind was cold. I could feel it creeping on my skin. It was laundry day today and mom didn't have a spare blanket. The window made a faint thumping noise whenever the wind blew. Thump. I should've closed it properly. Thump... But it's fine, the broken street light outside made a constant buzzing noise I really liked. I need to sleep. I could hear the television from the living room faintly. Mom probably fell asleep on the couch again. I really need to sleep.
I was a light sleeper. Anything could wake me up... I guess even the absence of the thumping. The wind wasn't howling against the window anymore. Maybe mom closed the window as I slept. I rubbed my eyes and shifted on the other side when I noticed a shadow on my wall.
There he was... smiling. He was the oddest thing I have ever set my eyes on. I remember my hands shaking that night as I looked at him. I waited for him to enter my room and hurt me but he didn't, he didn't move at all. His eyes didn't blink, not once. I waited for him to speak but he never made a sound. I remember feeling frightened that night, what I don't remember is how I fell asleep again.
There was a man who watched me sleep. He had a weird set of teeth. It was as if each tooth belonged to somebody else's before it grew on his gums. His eyes were more bulged the second time I saw him. He almost looked like a different person.
I was nine at that time. Mom made me stop going to school. She never told me why but I could sense that I made people feel uneasy. My classmates rarely talked to me. But when they do, they would keep their distance. They didn't want me there. I got used to it. I didn't care.
Mom hired a teacher who went to our house every weekday. His name was Dr. Fleece. I liked him. He would always look at me in the eye when he listened to my stories. He liked the red man most.
One afternoon, after my class with Dr. Fleece, mom called and told me to stay over at my cousin's place. My cousin's name was Yda, she was two years older than me. She was the only person I considered my friend. I quickly packed my things and mom drove me to her house. Yda's bed faced the window just like mine. I wonder...
It was around 11 when Yda fell asleep. She spent hours talking about how her school life was, her friends, and the boy she liked. I pretended to understand and made up stories of my own. Mom didn't like it when I tell our relatives that I was homeschooled.
It was quiet in Yda's neighborhood. It wasn't windy that night, there was no broken street light, and her mom turned off the television around 9:30. The sounds that stood out were the constant ringing you hear when everything is quiet, and the faint tick of Yda's wristwatch. My body stiffened. I was falling asleep.
Yda's arm on my face woke me up. I immediately saw the silhouette by the window. He was here again. His smile was even wider now, I could easily see how dark and dirty his gums are. My chest throbbed vigorously, I was unsure if it was fear or excitement. I can't remember how I fell asleep again but when I opened my eyes, it was morning. The red man was gone.
I enthusiastically told Dr. Fleece the same morning. He listened intently. I told him how the red man got thinner and how impossible it is that his eyes were still intact. He asked me if I was afraid. I remember nodding and then doubting my answer.
There was a red man who watched me sleep. I don't know his name. I don't know why he bothers to visit me. He watches me from midnight until I fall asleep, I know because I watched him back. The red man never blinks or moves. He was just... there, staring with his mouth wide open in a cheek-splitting grin.
Dr. Fleece made a bad decision that day. After our class, he told mom about the red man. Since then he didn't come back to teach me. I waited for him, he was my favorite teacher, but he never came back. Maybe I scared him away. I do that to people.
One evening, mom decided to sleep in my room. I was reading one of the books Dr. Fleece gave me when she entered. It was the first time I've seen her that way. I could see that she was scared of me too. After dinner, I did my chores and went to bed. Mom was already there. She brought her own blanket and pillow. She was skimming through the books Dr. Fleece left for me. I sat beside her. Since then, mom slept in my room.
I only knew that I had fallen asleep when I woke up in the middle of the night. The red man was there again, watching me. His eyes were glued to my face. But... he wasn't smiling tonight. I wonder why. He seemed different again. I was eleven this time, I don't even feel scared anymore. I was used to him. The red man's company was nice. Since the fear of him faded, I always get to sleep well at night. He made me feel safe.
There was a man who watched me sleep. He never moves or blinks. He just stares at me. Two years have passed since I last saw him. But I could always feel that someone was watching over me. Mom still sleeps beside me but I didn't mind. The red man watches over her too. It was nice to have company in the darkness.
One night, I woke up feeling thirsty. I looked at the window first and I felt a sense of disappointment when I found no friend there. I quietly left my room and walked in the darkness of our hallway. My eyes adjusted quickly and I found my way to the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and took the pitcher of water out. I poured cold water into the glass. I saw the clock as the last light from the fridge faded. It was midnight. A smirk appeared on my face as I walked back to the room. A few steps before I reach my room, an ear-piercing scream startled me. The glass slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. I ran back to the room. Panting, I opened the door and saw mom standing behind the bed. She was trembling. Her eyes were fixated on my window.
The red man was there, bloodier than ever. He was smiling this time. The red man... He- He resembled Dr. Fleece. He had the same red rotting skin but he had Dr. Fleeces's eyes. I know because of the way it looked at me. Mom kept screaming, asking our neighbors to call the police. I tried to keep her calm, assuring her that the red man won't harm us. But she was frantic, she called the police and left me in the room with him.
"I'm sorry." I murmured, feeling embarrassed by how my mom was reacting. The red man didn't respond. After calling the police, my mom dragged me out of the room. She made me explain why I was so calm and I told her everything. I peeked into my room, he was still there. Mom hugged me and brushed my hair with her hand. She told me that everything was going to be okay. I didn't understand why she was trying to comfort me, there was no need to.
The police arrived minutes after. I watched them examine the red man from my room. Mom was busy talking to them so I snuck in. They were outside and I was watching behind my bed. A cop with gloves placed his palms by the red man's head. My eyes grew wide as I saw this happening. I was about to stop him when mom ran back to the room. She pulled me away and tried to cover my eyes but it was too late. The police pulled out the red man's head. A head... from a makeshift pole outside my window.
Turns out, my friend was a severed head. Four severed heads. They were the ones who watched me while I slept. The police said that everything clicked when they saw the head by my window. Since 2006, the police have been getting calls of occurrences like this. I didn't know how mom wasn't aware of this. It wasn't only me who's been through this. One kid who was three years younger than me had been saying the same thing. He had his own red men but his mom thought that he was only imagining them until he disappeared two weeks ago. She was also a single mother. Mom broke down after that. We moved a week later. And even though it was a new house, she didn't enter my room anymore. The red man never visited again.
There wasn't a man who watched me sleep. It turned out I've been staring back at decapitated heads since I was a child. My friend doesn't exist.
I'm fourteen now, I barely think of the red men. I'm doing fine now. New school. I also made a few friends. They started talking to me because they recognized me from the news. They would always want to hear about the red men. I would politely decline.
It was midnight when I heard mom turn off the television. I was having a hard time falling asleep lately. My therapist gave me an assignment. She said that I should try recalling my earliest memory. I've been thinking about it for a few days now and it would always bring me back to when I was five or six. I was in our old house, staring outside the window with my hand pressed on the glass. There were red and blue lights coming from outside. I remember feeling sad.
A rattling outside stopped my train of thought. The hairs on my limbs started to rise from anticipation. I stared at the window, waiting for the --- meow. I fluffed my pillow and closed my eyes, disappointed.
I dreamed of my earliest memory. I've been thinking about it too much that it reached my subconscious. It was still the same thing, it was my younger self staring at something outside my window with my palm pressed against the glass. But something new happened, when the red and blue lights completely faded, a large masculine hand pressed against mine from the other side of the glass. It lingered there as I smiled. When the hand retracted, I was waving goodbye.
A knock.
I woke up abruptly when I felt something wet touch my toes. I flinched and sat on the bed. Why does my room smell like rust? When my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, I saw a child's head on the foot of my bed. My sheets were already soaked dark red. The child was smiling. There were pins and threads poking out of his cheeks to keep it that way. My first thought was it looked messy before I started fixing him.
There was a man who watched me sleep. He chopped up people's heads and placed them by my window. And now, he entered my bedroom and placed a little boy's head on the foot of my bed. I should be scared right now, but I'm not. I've always liked the gifts.
A hand knocks on the window.
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